


Magic

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, and sometimes you drink too much wine and people ask you to write, but sometimes you just need a bit of magic, even now I’m not sure what I was thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: In which Elsie has a secret, Charles is Charles and just whatisgoing on with Elsie’s hair?
Relationships: Charles Carson/Elsie Hughes
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so a long time ago now, there was a discussion on tumblr following an interview with several of the actors on the show, where they revealed three things about their characters and three things about themselves; one of Phyllis's/Mrs Hughes's was that while Phyllis dyes her hair, Mrs Hughes does not. But of course, we'll all have noticed changes in colour of Mrs Hughes's hair over the seasons, changes that couldn't be attributed to sun-bleaching or aging, which kicked off a little discussion that perhaps Mrs Hughes has magic hair. Several people wanted a story and as deeedeee is still on a writing hiatus, she nominated me. I had not been part of this discussion, had been coming down from a bad day and had consumed more than a little white wine; which of course meant I agreed immediately and typed out the following in reply to the nomination. It doesn't seem any less odd to me all these years later, but is not actually the weirdest thing I've ever written, so here it is.

**Magic**

It takes her some time, after they marry, to show him.

It would have happened sooner if she had just told him, but she couldn't.

It isn't that she thought he would be scared of her; she simply didn't think he would believe her.

Not without proof. She has always worried that if they knew, if anyone knew, they would call her mad, lock her up and throw away the key; all the things she has lived her life terrified they could do to Becky.

Or worse, keep her near, watch her, study her, trap her somewhere dark and cold.

Magic isn't meant to be confined.

And it is magic, she knows that; the way she learnt to open her hand, blow warm air across her palm with silent words in her head and bless the birds, the flowers, the people in her heart.

She has blessed him so many times she has almost lost count; while others might have prayed during his illness, she blessed, spoke the words aloud to give them more power.

Perhaps he would have strengthened without her, but she had to be sure.

There have been spells and chants that have followed her from childhood, that she has kept alive when their casters have long gone from the Earth.

Gifts, given to her by those who knew better how small comforts can raise a smile when life has caused a frown.

And her hair; such a simple thing. But a complicated spell, gifted so innocently by her sister. Becky hadn't known, hadn't realised how important the words were, the order, _the intent._

_'Be as you were always'_ she had whispered, one night when Elsie's hair had changed from dark red to brown; a natural change her sister had not liked.

But she had not been careful; for something to be as it was, it must change to something new.

And Becky had not finished the spell. Had not given a limit or a time. Had woven a charm to change her sister's hair that repeats each fifth year of her life.

"Charles, come here." Elsie smiles now at her husband, pats the space beside her, _his_ half of their settee.

He sits, takes her hand. Kisses her palm with a smile of his own.

"Do you believe in magic?" She says as the clock chimes and the sun dips low outside the window. As she feels the tingle in her hair and the itch across her skin.

"Is it that time already?" He asks, reaches for the pins that hold her hair in tight curls and lets them out. "I'd wondered if it might be soon."

The sun sets and her hair darkens, from the light wisps of grey, to brown to dark red.

"You knew." She whispers, leans into the hand that cups her cheek, kisses the thumb that brushes her lips.

"I knew you didn't dye it." He says, leans in close, his breath at her ear. "A woman of mystery if ever there was."

**End.**


End file.
